


Surrogate

by yeaka



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Dry Humping, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Open Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 01:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12470416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Yuuri will settle for whatever alpha the auction gives him, though none of them will be the other omega he really wants.





	1. Setup

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Warning, this will basically be just a short/useless PWP with the actually PWP part and more tags to come in part two, once I get a chance to write it. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuri on Ice or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

As soon as Yuuri’s set a toe over the threshold, he wants to turn around and run. His instincts scream for it, his whole body freezing up, while a wave of sheer _alpha_ pheromones hits him like a solid brick wall. Hints of other omegas and even a few betas dance inside it, but they don’t terrify him like the smell of alpha does. His regular nerves run wild over all the little things—how does this work? Did he dress okay? Does he even _deserve_ to be here?—just as bad as the designation part. There’s an older balding man near the door that spots him and gives him a funny look, and Yuuri’s whole being shrieks: _run_.

But then he sees a flicker of silver hair, peeking out amidst the sea of bodies, and Yuuri sucks in a breath. He lets that tantalizing peek pull him forward, and he’s reeled in like a fish on a line. He walks into the banquet, is politely greeted by a beta at the door, and handed his auction card. Yuuri tucks it quickly into the pocket of his suit jacket and plunges into another whirlpool of regret. He still can’t believe he’s going to be _auctioned off._

But it’ll be worth it, he tells himself, if he can keep skating. He swore he’d do _anything_ for that. And he can’t compete in the great competitions if he doesn’t bond. And if he can’t compete... he can’t share the ice with Victor Nikiforov.

He spots his idol in the crowd, quickly looks away again, and huddles himself into a corner. A long table offers a plethora of alcohol that seems to call his name. Yuuri digs his nails into his palm and ignores it. He doesn’t need that now. If he gets drunk, he’ll act an idiot, and no one will bid on him. And if he doesn’t get an alpha...

He swallows and trips into the familiar fantasy of what it would be like if _Victor Nikiforov_ was an alpha and somehow, impossibly, against all odds and sense, chose Yuuri for a mate. Then they could always skate together. They could even do exhibitions. And Yuuri would suddenly _love_ his heats instead of cursing them, and he’d do everything he could for Victor’s ruts. 

But Victor Nikiforov is another omega, one already bonded, and completely off the table. Still, it’ll be something to compete with him. It’ll be enough. Maybe they’ll even pass each other in the hotels or locker rooms, like they’ve _almost_ done so many times. And Yuuri will get another whiff of Victor’s sweet perfume, his pheromones like a fresh spring that Yuuri just wants to drown in...

Someone taps his shoulder, and Yuuri freezes up again, until he realizes that he’s not just imagining that smell. When he dares to glance back, that same silver-haired vixen that’s plastered all over Yuuri’s bedroom walls gives him a dazzling smile. Directed at him, it feels like an arrow to the heart. 

“Yuuri Katsuki?” Victor asks, in a voice that’s practically a purr. He shuffles up right next to Yuuri, inhumanly close, a little taller and bolder and just all around absurdly gorgeous. The rest of the banquet seems to fizzle and die away in a slew of black and white, Victor accentuated in full colour. Victor tilts his head, and his shimmering hair tumbles over one eye, perfectly quaffed. “Congratulations on your season! I’ve been following you—you did quite well for an un-bonded omega.”

Flattered beyond words that _Victor Nikiforov_ would bother following little old _him_ , Yuuri manages a genuine, “Thanks.” He means it, despite the ‘for an omega’ qualifier. He doesn’t have to say it was the last time he would be allowed to do so. He only made it last time on technicalities—presenting late and Japan being slow on regulations. Then he tries to match Victor’s smile just for effect and is sure he looks like an idiot. He’s dreamed of talking to Victor one-on-one, gushing over him about how talented he is, how inspiring, how intoxicating, but actually faced with it, Yuuri’s tongue just sort of sticks to the roof of his mouth.

Victor draws a sudden arm around him, heavy and _warm_ , and leans close to him, adding in a conspirator’s whisper: “You’re cute, too.” He winks. He’s adorable. He’s hot as hell. Yuuri’s entire face is probably red.

Victor licks his lips and deliberately coos: “I would do all sorts of nasty things to you if I were an alpha...”

Feeling light headed, Yuuri all but sways in Victor’s grasp, melting, only for Victor to straighten out again and laugh, “Just kidding.” Abruptly, he’s all smiles and sunshine. Yuuri had heard Victor could be... silly... but that’s no preparation for his mercurial effect. Patting Yuuri’s back amicably, Victor rolls on, “But seriously, you’d better get bonded soon! I want to compete against you next week, and you’ll qualify if you meet that requirement. It’s about time I had some real competition.” His eyes seem to sparkle, or maybe Yuuri’s just drunk off pheromones. 

Before Yuuri can muster a response, an even more thickly accented voice sighs, “Aren’t _I_ enough competition for you? Victor, you wound me.”

Out of nowhere, Christophe Giacometti slips into the conversation. He drapes his arm around his omega’s back, and Victor’s instantly falls away from Yuuri, his attention turning to his alpha. They look good together, both indecently attractive, but it still makes Yuuri’s stomach churn in bitter jealousy. Victor cheerfully responds, “I meant in the omega division—you don’t even count.”

Chris pouts in obviously mock hurt despite the truth of Victor’s words—he and his alpha would never be allowed to directly compete. The divisions are structured for just that reason—besides protecting omegas from a locker room full of hungry alphas, too many omegas would willingly stage their own defeats to let their alphas win. Yuuri would like to think he’d never do that, but he also knows that if Victor were his alpha, he’d do anything Victor asked him. He’s never been particularly submissive, but he would for Victor.

He feels stupidly love sick over a man he barely knows, and he forces himself to give Chris a weak smile. At least, from what Yuuri knows, Chris is nice enough. He probably treats Victor well. It looks like he does. Victor looks perfectly comfortable on his arm, and Victor gestures to Yuuri, introducing, “This is Yuuri Katsuki, the one I was watching last night—” Yuuri’s breath hitches, but Victor rolls right on, “—and this is Chris, my alpha. But you probably know that.” Of course. Everyone does. And Yuuri would know that even if he didn’t receive regular updates from Phichit’s social media addiction. 

Before Yuuri can say much of a ‘hello,’ Chris asks, “So, Yuuri, are you here to be auctioned? You must not be getting taken care of at home; you’re looking at my Victor like you’re going to go into heat any second.” Victor laughs, but Yuuri pales. It’s true his heat isn’t far, but Victor...

He somehow manages to say, “Ah, yes, I... I should be getting matched today...”

“Well, you’ve still got a few minutes,” Chris tells him, in a voice somehow even more seductive than Victor’s—even though Yuuri would choose Victor’s anytime. “Might as well have fun for it, yeah?” Then he winks and gives Victor a tight side-hug, announcing, “Feel free to play with Victor in the meantime, if you like—a little thing like a bond never stopped _me_ from fun.” Then he presses a kiss to Victor’s cheek and, while Yuuri’s still too stunned to blink, flitters suddenly off, bee-lining for a tall Kazakh skater that’s never said two words to Yuuri.

Victor watches Chris go with a wistful, fond sort of look, before he returns his languid smile to Yuuri. At least the amount of actual figure skaters here does bring Yuuri some comfort—hopefully he’ll be chosen by another skater, one in the alpha division who will support Yuuri’s career.

And then maybe he and Victor will run into each other again. And maybe, if Chris doesn’t mind, then he and Victor can—

But that’s a horrible thought, and Chris was probably joking. Yet Victor crosses his arms purposely, leaning towards Yuuri, looking like they’re about to really start to _talk_ —and then the dull background music Yuuri barely noticed cuts off, and someone taps a glass.

Yuuri and Victor both look over to the podium at the far side of the room. A stout woman with a microphone clears her throat, and announces, “Thank you for coming, everyone! It’s been another great year, but before we go into the usual speeches, we still have some omegas that need matching! The bidding will begin in ten minutes. I’d like to remind everyone that omegas have the final say in whether or not they will accept an offer, and this short intermission is for getting your finances in order, _not_ any last minutes pleas. Any alphas found to be exerting pressure over omegas or even other bidding alphas will be asked to leave and automatically disqualified from next week’s event. We have seven lovely candidates tonight, and bidding is expected to close around eight o’clock. The rest of the night’s activities are expected to resume immediately after. Now, thank you for listening, and good luck everyone!” She ends by raising her glass, and the room politely claps, a few alphas more vigorously than others.

Yuuri thinks his knees might be shaking. Suddenly it all seems so _real_.

And he could back out. He really could. But Victor remains beside him, showing no signs of moving, and that makes it worth everything. He tells himself it won’t be so horrible. He’ll just accept whatever alpha bids highest, and maybe he’ll manage. Maybe they’ll be nice. Maybe he’ll even learn to _love_ them.

Maybe they won’t mind if he cries out Victor’s name during heat, like Phichit always says he does. Or maybe he’ll get one of those alphas that only bags an omega for show but is always off in another country, and he’ll still be vainly trying to satisfy himself with his few omega friends, and the timing will work out for competitions anyway.

Ten minutes flies by way too quickly. Victor chats with him about his last routine, insults his suit, and whines over Chris’ cat, and all that keeps Yuuri from fainting. But he’s the oldest omega and the first to go up.

The first person to bid on him is a Canadian egomaniac. When the alpha raises his hand and calls out a ridiculous number, much more than Yuuri’s worth, Yuuri still feels sick to his stomach. He tells himself that at least Jean-Jacques Leroy is a skater. And a good one. Maybe it’ll work. Canada probably has lots of rinks—he’d probably be okay. Chris isn’t standing far from Jean-Jacques. When he spots Victor and Yuuri, he gives a little thumbs up.

Victor cheerfully whispers to Yuuri, “That means JJ’s hung.” 

Yuuri groans, but Victor kindly releases a small cloud of soothing pheromones. And even from one omega to another, it works. 

Then Victor slips his hand into Yuuri’s, and the rest of the evening doesn’t seem so bad.


	2. Payment

He accepts Jean-Jacques’ offer. Jean-Jacques—or ‘JJ’, as he says Yuuri can call him—is the best option he gets. One woman from America bids higher, but Yuuri recognizes her as a coach rather than a skater and feels absolutely no attraction towards her. JJ’s at least...

He doesn’t know. At least a _small_ part of him is attracted to JJ. Too small, but something. And JJ grins like the king he always boasts to be when Yuuri formally accepts. He’s told his things are being moved from the omega hotel to the alpha one as they speak. The thought of spending the week in a suite with JJ feels suffocating, but he thinks of getting on the ice again at the end— _the same ice as Victor_ —and it gets him through it. He still can’t quite meet JJ’s eyes.

He stands next to Victor anyway through the rest of the auction, Chris blessedly gone and JJ off bragging to everyone he can find, even though Yuuri’s nothing to brag over. Victor squeezes Yuuri’s hand when the auction winds down, and they have to stop whispering to one another, because Chris returns to collect his prize, and everyone’s shuffled off to tables in the next room while the speakers prepare their litany of announcements.

Yuuri sits next to JJ. When the anxiety gets to him, it’s best to stay on auto-pilot, and he’s at least grateful he has someone to follow—it’d be worse, he thinks, if he were just left standing in the middle of nowhere wondering what to do. A coach would tell him, but if he had a coach, he would’ve been bonded by now. He wonders wistfully if JJ’s coaches—they’re his parents, Yuuri thinks?—might help him a little.

He keeps casting longing looks across the room at Victor, ones he hopes are subtler than they probably are. JJ talks to him a lot about nothing and offers him a drink. Yuuri hesitates. He thinks how easy it would be to down it—and another—and then ten more—and then just stumble home with JJ and let JJ fuck him and mark him all in one night. But he’d probably cry out Victor’s name, and Yuuri doesn’t want to know if his new alpha has a mean side.

The mere phrase ‘ _his new alpha_ ’ makes him choke, and he swallows that in a glass of water. JJ laughs and genially pats his back.

* * *

There’s no saying goodbye to Victor. He’s swarmed now, and Yuuri’s no longer free to just sidle up to him and wait out the storm of other admirers. Chris is all over him anyway. So Yuuri numbly exits the hall at JJ’s side, keeping pace down the lobby, while JJ tells him, “You do okay in the stamina department, but you could use some more jumps—hey, you know how to do a quad Salchow?” 

Yuuri stumbles, “Uhm, maybe—” because he knows _how_ , just hasn’t managed successfully with any consistency. A part of him is grateful JJ seems to know his routines—but a lot of alphas like to watch the omega division. He just wasn’t expecting JJ to remember _him_ specifically.

“I’ll teach you,” JJ says. It half sounds more like boasting than a helpful offer.

Yuuri pushes his glasses a bit higher up his nose and answers, “Thank you,” anyway. 

Then they’re at the end of the lobby, stepping out into the cold night air, and JJ asks, already heading to the street with an arm in the air for a taxi, “How’d you get here?”

“Taxi.”

“Alone?”

“...Y... yes...?”

“Great, then you can catch one with me back to the hotel.” _The_ hotel. Yuuri knows which one. He tries to smile. In a way, he’s sort of grateful that JJ seems to have come alone too—it would probably be too awkward to face his coaches first thing. A taxi quickly swerves out of traffic to pull up on the curve, evidently drawn to JJ as much as everything seems to be for alphas. JJ holds out the back door for him, and Yuuri slips inside.

It’s warmer inside. But once the door clicks closed, and Yuuri’s trapped in a confined space, JJ’s alpha pheromones assault him. JJ doesn’t seem to notice, busy talking to the driver, but Yuuri has to take several deep breaths and fist his hands against his knees.

JJ puts a hand next to his. He turns to Yuuri, and Yuuri freezes up, terrified that JJ’s going in for a kiss and Yuuri will have to—

But JJ just tells him, smirking up a storm, “You’re good on the ice, Yuuri, but I’ll bet you’ll be even better under my tutelage. We’re gonna win the gold next week in both divisions, yeah?”

Something in Yuuri’s stomach flutters. The support does make him feel stronger. The hand on his leg isn’t so bad. He does sort of like the way JJ smells, once he gets used to it. 

He’s bad with pressure though and just weakly smiles. JJ grins like it’s already happened. Then his hand withdraws, and he settles back into his seat, lounging grandly with an arm thrown around the back. Alphas get to be so _casual_. Yuuri eyes him quietly while the city buzzes past them, the driver politely silent. 

A few minutes in, Yuuri works up the courage to ask, “Why’d you bid on me?”

“You’ll see if you come up to my suite.” He winks. “How about it?”

Yuuri had forgotten there was a choice. But the reminder gives him some courage. He tells himself to be brave. He sucks everything in, trying to channel all his nervous energy into determination, like he does on the ice. Then he turns to JJ properly and says: “Okay.”

* * *

The elevator reeks of alpha, but maybe that’s why his anxiety’s died off as much as it has. Maybe JJ’s presence really is soothing him. ...Or maybe he’s just had so much internal anguish in one evening that his brain’s shut off, and it’s left him numb. Either way, he holds himself together as he exits the elevator one step behind JJ. The hotel is roughly the same as the one Yuuri stayed in last night, probably owned by the same company. Two doors down, JJ fiddles in his pocket for the key.

Then he unlocks it, pushes in, and gestures for Yuuri to follow. With one last rush of resolve, Yuuri steps over the threshold.

Two steps later, JJ shuts the door behind him. Three steps later, a familiar scent tempts him forward. In five steps, he rounds the corner, into the large living space, where the rich crimson and oak decorations are adorned with none other than Christophe Giacometti, and his alpha between his legs. 

Yuuri freezes, _staring_. And that’s not just because Victor Nikiforov’s kneeling on the floor, arched seductively forward with his mouth open wide over Chris’ clothed cock. Chris is lying back like he owns the place, his jacket off and his button-up shirt half undone, a glass of champagne in one hand. The coffee table with the bottle is pushed back to accommodate Victor. Victor gives the tent in Chris’ jeans a long, showy lick, then closes his lips against it and rests his face on the wet patch he’s just made, smiling welcomingly at Yuuri. Yuuri’s sure the room just went up several degrees. 

“Surprise,” Chris trills, lifting both arms in the cliché gesture. Something presses against the small of Yuuri’s back, nudging him forward, and he stumbles a few paces towards the square of couches. Chris drawls by way of explanation: “I hope you don’t mind, Yuuri. I owed Victor a present for doing so well at Skate Canada, and he said _you_ , you lucky boy. Fortunately, I have a friend that was all too happy to sign your papers and leave you free to play with my precious Victor. ...Assuming you’re game, of course. It’s not too late to call the ISU and ask for an alpha that isn’t as... fun... as us.” He ends with a wink, which he seems to do often. But then, he seems to find a lot of situations that warrant them.

Head still spinning, Yuuri glances tentatively over his shoulder. JJ’s in the midst of shedding his faux-leather jacket, and in its wake, he shrugs his broad shoulders. “I needed an omega anyway to shut the league and my parents up,” he adds, “but a king can’t be tied down any more than a royal courtesan.” Chris throws back his head to laugh, evidently pleased with the insinuation. 

Although he does correct, “I wouldn’t say _royal_ —that would imply I work for you, when in fact, I was enjoying myself while you were still in the juniors.” 

JJ snorts. Then he steps up to pat Yuuri’s shoulder with the sort of force of an alpha who doesn’t realize his own strength. “But you’ll make a great trophy omega! You’re so cute in those glasses that I certainly won’t mind helping you with your heats.” He winks again. But he also shrugs again, finishing: “But if you’d rather tire yourself out with an omega that’ll take twice as much work to satiate it, I’ll be happy to watch that, too.”

The prospect of lying with JJ isn’t even on Yuuri’s mind anymore. He turns back to the couches, and all he can think about is _Victor_ , who sits there so peacefully, so beautifully, even though Yuuri thinks he could probably be just as loud as the other two. Victor’s the one to purr, “Well, Yuuri? Do you want to discover if I have talent off the ice, too?”

Yuuri answers, “Yes,” without even thinking. He’s so stunned and _pleased_ that he can’t even move his legs. 

JJ has to give him another push, chuckling, “Go on, then.” And that’s the last bit Yuuri needs: the shocking, _wondrous_ revelation that this is _okay_ —‘his’ new alpha won’t just jump him when he clearly has eyes for some else. He practically runs to where Victor’s sitting.

He stumbles awkwardly down to his knees, horribly ungraceful, and insists, “Yes, I really want to—” But suddenly Victor’s lips are pressed against his own, cutting him off.

A soft palm rises to cup his cheek, the other swiftly following. Victor’s long fingers thread back into his hair, thumbs grazing the rims of his glasses. They’re abruptly _in the way_ , but Yuuri’s not thinking straight enough to take them off. He just tilts into Victor’s touch, and no sooner has he closed his eyes, then he has to open them again.

Victor’s pulled back a fraction, murmuring against his lips, “Talk? Is that what you were going to say?” Yuuri nods vigorously in Victor’s grip. Victor seems to already be able to read him. He wonders if people can really get to know each other just by watching them skate. If Victor’s watched Yuuri even a quarter as much as he’s watched Victor, they’ll be set for life. Victor pulls a long grin and hums, “But we can do that when our alphas are sleeping—after all, they just weren’t built for endless sex and cuddling like omegas.” Chris laughs somewhere in the background. Yuuri barely hears him. Yuuri surges forward with a boldness that only his greatest passions have ever been able to stir, and he brings their mouths back together. Victor makes a pleased noise and presses into him. 

Victor’s the one to remove Yuuri’s glasses. Yuuri doesn’t even see what Victor’s done with them—he’s closed his eyes again, concentrating now on everything else: he’s seen Victor’s beauty, but now he can drown in Victor’s smell, indulge in Victor’s heady taste, and live in Victor’s warm embrace. The wet noises between them would have him spluttering in embarrassment if he weren’t so preoccupied with Victor’s mouth. Every time he tries to part their mouths to say something—something innocent, sweet, to get to know this man _he wants so badly_ —Victor’s tongue plunges into him again. He presses his back against Victor’s, swirls around it, sucks Victor into his mouth and moans around the plug of it. He’s never wanted anything, anyone, so badly.

In a dizzying fog, Victor slowly kisses Yuuri backwards. Yuuri goes where Victor guides him, until he finds himself flat along the floor, and he realizes that Victor’s crawled on top of him. The carpet’s thick and not particularly hard, though he’d rather have a bed—but Yuuri wouldn’t dare leave to find one, because he doesn’t want this to end for even a second. Victor’s hands stay on his face, Victor’s weight held up on elbows and knees, and Yuuri slowly lets himself respond with more than just tongue. He brings his own hands up to thread through Victor’s hair. The silver waves already spill down on one side to tickle his cheek, but Yuuri brushes them back. On the other side, Yuuri skims down the slender column of Victor’s throat, reaching the jacket of Victor’s suit. 

Victor shifts to help rip his own tie off. Yuuri’s is too tight, but Victor loosens that too, never once stalling their string of fervent kisses. Yuuri starts pushing at the sides of Victor’s jacket, wanting it off, wanting it _all off_ , and Victor chuckles against him and struggles to oblige. It’s like all the sexless years of Yuuri’s delayed presentation have culminated in one sudden burst of fireworks, though he’s letting them out over the wrong designation. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care if everyone says only an alpha can give him what he needs. He _wants_ another omega, and has for as long as he can remember, ever since he first saw Victor glide onto the rink, long hair streaming out behind him beneath a crown of flowers. It was a pivotal moment in Yuuri’s life, and he hasn’t switched course once. 

He manages to get Victor’s jacket open and starts fiddling with the buttons of Victor’s shirt. 

In between kisses, Victor coos, “I hate this suit, Yuuri—I hope JJ burns it.”

“You burn it,” Yuuri answers, just as breathless as Victor sounds. “I’ll wear nothing if you want.” Victor pauses to grin, and Yuuri blushes. He has no idea where that bout of steadiness came from, but Victor seems to like it. Victor gives an approving peck to his nose and jerks his shirt so hard that two of the buttons go flying. Yuuri has no time to protest, because then Victor’s on him again, warm hands now slipping beneath the fabric to feel up his chest. Yuuri moans as Victor kneads his breast, smooth palms circling his nipples. Victor bucks against him, feeling just as hard as Yuuri is.

It’s going so fast. But Yuuri can’t help himself. He finishes with Victor’s shirt and slides into the creamy expanse of Victor’s chest. He runs up Victor’s taut stomach and the light dusting of abs, firm below but soft to the touch. Then he dares to run his hands around and grab Victor’s rear, squeezing hard enough that Victor breaks off to gasp. 

Stopping to nuzzle into the side of Yuuri’s face, Victor purrs, “You must be in pre-heat, Yuuri... I can tell... _you smell so good I could eat you right up_...” Catching Yuuri’s ear in his teeth, he teases the shell and whispers, “Maybe I can’t end it instantly for you like an alpha could... but I bet I still can if I work on it _long and hard_.” He punctuates his statement with a roll of his hips, grinding Yuuri into the carpet. Yuuri’s sure he’s stained the front of his underwear with precum and the back with slick. He doesn’t even know how that’ll work with another omega—they’ll both be wet—will he fill Victor, or will Victor fill him? Maybe they’ll switch. Maybe they’ll take each other over and over again until they’re both too exhausted to move, lying in a puddle of sweat and cum.

Yuuri begs, “ _Yes_ ,” and bucks right back up into Victor. In a way, he’s bizarrely glad it’ll take longer, more. A few broken cries of, “ _Please_ ,” and, “ _Victor_ ,” make it out around the flow of Victor’s roaming hands and Yuuri’s own explorations—he tires to memorize the exact curve of Victor’s ass, and the pert tightness of it when he squeezes it with all his fingers spread. His legs are intertwined with Victor’s, but he tries to position them better to have one between Victor’s and one of Victor’s between his, so they can hump each other with more friction. He thinks he’s already close to the edge, but that’s the bright side of being with another omega—he’ll have more rounds in him after. They both will.

While Yuuri chases him, Victor tries to free his mouth long enough to breathlessly muse, “Maybe I’ll coach you how to manage my heats, too... would you do that for me, Yuuri?”

“Yes,” Yuuri insists, “Every time, always—”

A gravely voice groans over them, “I’d like to watch that.” Yuuri tilts his head aside, giving room for Victor to mouth at his neck. He’d forgotten JJ entirely. While Victor licks and nips at Yuuri’s throat, JJ’s sprawled out along the couch, Chris lying lengthwise across it, his head buried in JJ’s lap. JJ’s fly is open, the dark base of his cock just barely visible as the rest disappears down Chris’ throat. Yuuri’s never seen an alpha service another alpha before. But he’s infinitely glad these two are different, because it lets him think about _Victor’s_ cock. He wants to taste it more than anything. He wonders if Victor would suck him too—if they could suck each other, maybe even at the same time, and he’d like it so much he wouldn’t even care how many alphas watched. He turns away from JJ and Chris to find Victor’s mouth again, and Victor happily accepts him back. Yuuri childishly hopes Victor’s given him a hickey.

Somewhere overhead, Chris mutters, “Come on, we’d better leave these two to enjoy each other in peace.” JJ grunts in disappointment, maybe at having Chris no longer swallowing him up, but then footsteps ring out, and when Yuuri glances back, the couch is empty. He’s grateful for it. He nudges Victor towards it with his nose, and Victor follows his gaze.

They stop at the same time, both turning to scramble up onto the couch, lying back across the plush cushions, and this time Yuuri rolls them over so that Victor lies beneath him. Still wrapped in tight pants but his shirt open and spread below his taut torso, Victor’s Yuuri’s own personal paradise. He doesn’t even know how to express his gratitude, so he just shows it with actions, diving down to kiss Victor. They pick up right where they left off, kissing and cooing and nuzzling into one another, rubbing against each other, until Yuuri’s brain is _nothing_. The entire world’s melted away, and rolling waves of unadulterated _pleasure_ come crashing into him—it culminates into a wild, toe-curling orgasm that has him crying out against Victor’s throat. Victor tosses his head back and cries just as loud. He arches up into Yuuri, while Yuuri spills himself and humps it out, still ragged with lust. Everything is perfect.

And it’s still perfect as it slowly putters down. His sense of weight returns, the feeling crawling back into his limbs, his vision righting itself. He remembers how sticky he is, his chest glued to Victor’s with a thin sheen of sweat and his cock glued to his underwear, his ass no better. His lips feel swollen, and Victor’s are glistening. Yuuri kisses them anyway. It’s a lazy one this time, more gradual and chaste.

But then Victor’s humping him again, reaching down to finally start on their pants. While Yuuri still has some semblance of thought left, he asks between shuddering breaths, “Are you... really okay with this...?”

“Da,” Victor answers confidently, his eyes on Yuuri’s fly but his words for Yuuri’s heart. “I’ve wanted you for a while actually, even before last year’s banquet when you got so drunk you begged me to bond you.” A tidal wave of embarrassment slams into Yuuri out of nowhere, but Victor, utterly unfazed, hums, “If I was an alpha, I would’ve—once you sobered up, of course—but I won’t let that stop me. I always like to surprise people, you know?” He grins at Yuuri, then asks, “Now, are _you_ really okay with this, Yuuri?”

He loves the way Victor says his name. It lessens the blow of the news of his shame. He answers, “I’m _so happy_ ,” and stops just short of choking on tears. 

Victor chirps, “Good. Then here’s to the start of a great relationship.” He gives Yuuri another kiss.

Yuuri kisses him back, and they fall into love all over again.


End file.
